Stories & Poems of Horror, Mystery, Fantasy and Everything Else

Damned

In a world gone to hell, there’s no point asking God for help. If he could do something, he probably would have.

My footsteps echo off the pavement and bounce around the buildings surrounding me. These used to be bustling apartments. Now a few stragglers remain, but the dark yawning windows betray the emptiness that resides in them.

The city was lost in darkness once, just waiting to swallow up any unsuspecting soul that walked the streets alone at night. It was, relatively speaking, a happier time. Now there’s light everywhere as the city burns itself to the ground.

At last I arrive at my destination. My feet falter as I stand near the door. I’ve already made my choice, but I wonder if I can go back. Before hesitation can sink in, the door opens.

Hope packed her bags and left town a long time ago. Only the dead and the dying are foolish enough to look for her nowadays. They say she’s still out there somewhere, just hanging around until the time is right. The city’s being cleansed by fire, they say, so it can be rebuilt from the ashes. They’re full of shit. Ashes won’t mark the road to the future. Ashes are the future.

Perfume and smoke mingles in the air. I’m welcomed in with a smile, as if I were an old friend. It’s all a game, and I play along. Piercing eyes gaze into my soul and a shark toothed grin relishes the prospects of what’s ahead.

In a world gone to hell, there’s no point asking God for help. So I turned to the Devil instead.